


When It Comes To Subtlety

by martinisandart



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Antony and Cleopatra, F/M, It’s more soft Christmas stuff, Mistletoe, imagine me actually writing more than 5000 words, shakespeare references because I love it, tropes galore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:27:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21712981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martinisandart/pseuds/martinisandart
Summary: Kiss Jack Robison under a sprig of festive greenery- how hard can it be? As Phryne is about to find out, through dinner, dancing, and quoting Shakespeare, it’s far more difficult than it seems to begin with.
Relationships: Phryne Fisher & Jack Robinson, Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 54





	When It Comes To Subtlety

When it came to subtlety, Phryne Fisher wasn’t a fan. Everybody knew it, and everybody accepted it. If you wanted a fancy birthday dinner, with the most exquisite menu, and decorations that would please even the least amicable aunts in your family tree, you were directed to Miss Fisher. More often than not, she would be able to hire out a house in the country, find the perfect band, and talk her way into having the best menu anyone had ever had the pleasure of tasting- with on hand catering services and wine on tap. If someone was searching for a dance partner, perhaps, rather than simply agree to dance with a possible suitor for the evening, Phryne Fisher would hire the Grand Ballroom of the Windsor hotel, and recruit four different styles of dance instructors to help brush up on any form of dance, whether it be foxtrot, tango, or her personal favourite: the waltz.   
If a subtler, perhaps surprising event was in order, The Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher was certainly not the person who would be asked. Surprise parties (although pretty, and fun), were not her ordeal, nor was making someone comfortable in an environment of which they had never been in before. As loved as she was by practically everyone in Melbourne proper’s upper class circles, it was a well-known fact that if you wanted a surprise, you did not want Phryne Fisher; in fact, those two words hardly ever even sat in the same sentence- and on the rare occasion that they did, it was in news headlines on the society pages of The Globe. Crowd favourites that frequently circulated, and were often words on the lips of rich men and women as they swanned around St. Kilda included “The Honourable Miss Fisher Surprises Bachelor with a New Car”, “Surprising New Insight into The Private Life of the Honourable Miss Fisher”, and more recently: “Miss Phryne Fisher’s Love Life takes a Surprising Turn as She Is Seen with Inspector Robinson For the Fourth Day This Week”. Sometimes, people sighed when they looked at the headlines in the newspapers. The headlines were all too predictable these days- Miss Fisher, her Inspector, and flying rumours. How unsurprising. 

♥︎

The woman in question teetered on a stool, cursing her heels as she tried to pin the sprig of greenery above the doorframe with a push-pin. It wasn’t so much that she was having trouble with her balance, per se, but moreover the fact that she had no idea what she was doing with the little green plant, let alone why she had taken her butler up on the idea when he had suggested it, but then again.   
At the time, the idea had seemed cute. Hang a spring of festive greenery above the doorway into the parlour, and leave it there for the entirety of the festive season to work its magic, or... whatever it was supposed to do. Phryne wasn’t quite sure.   
“Jane!?” her voice flew up an octave or two as her heels wobbled on the stool beneath her, and she grabbed onto the doorframe for support. Within moments, her ward was stood next to her, plaits waving, and eyes aglow with happiness. She had a bauble in one hand, and the other was fiddling with the red ribbon tie that had come with it.   
“Yes, Miss Phryne?”   
Jane’s voice was soft, and her eyes bright, and though still struggling to find her balance on the chair, Phryne was overcome with a sudden wave of love for the girl- she had come from such pained and humble beginnings, and now here she was, in one of Melbourne’s most well regarded households, hanging Christmas decorations with Communist cab drivers, and dancing to festive music as her adoptive mother’s butler baked Christmas pudding. Life, so it seemed, had turned out rather wonderfully for her.   
“What is it?”   
Phryne shook herself out of the silly little trance she was in, and smiled again at Jane.  
“Would you mind awfully holding the bottom of the stool I’m stood on, Jane?” she asked, her eyes smiling down at the girl who, quite immediately took a hold of the base of the stool as soon as the words left Phryne’s mouth.   
“Of course!” she grinned, and looked at Phryne like a cat that had got the cream.   
“Why are you doing this again?”   
Phryne sighed in a manner that suggested she was anything but irritated.  
“Because.” She paused as she finally pinned the foliage to the doorframe, and was able to jump down off the stool with a clatter of heels,   
“Mr. Butler decided we needed some more... interactive festive decorations, and I agreed. My aunt and uncle always used to buy mistletoe, and always gave the leftover sprigs to me and Janey to play with when we played house.” Her eyes went misty as they often did when she spoke of her deceased sister, and Jane reached out to pat her on the arm in an attempt to be welcoming and open.   
“We would always drag the neighbourhood boys outside and try to kiss them under the mistletoe” Phryne said with a laugh,  
“I thought perhaps we could have just as much fun now as I did back then, maybe even more fun!” she winked at Jane, and the teen stifled a laugh.   
“You mean to say...?”   
Phryne could have hit the girl with the back of her hand. She wasn’t truly annoyed, was she?  
“Yes, Jane!” she said,  
“Don’t tell me you disapprove of Jack as well as Aunt Prudence! Goodness!” 

Jane took a deep breath in. It was true- Prudence Stanley was completely disapproving of the blossoming relationship between her niece and the Chief Detective Inspector of the Victorian Constabulary. Rather than letting the romance bloom slowly like the precious rose that it was usually thought to be of, or tenderly caring for it with a pair of kid gloves, she seemed fonder of being the child in the metaphorical garden. She would often push open the garden gate with a harsh shove, trample around in the flowerbed, and then pull up a few blooms for fun, or for decorating her kitchen table. Jane bit her lip, and thought very carefully about her next few words.   
“Of course I don’t, Miss Phryne!” she said, her tone decorated with what could almost be classified as distaste- or maybe horror at the seemingly horrible accusation that had been thrown in her direction.   
“I would never jest at, or disregard your... time spent with the Inspector! I just...” she took a sudden pause, and Phryne looked at her quizzically.   
There were a lot of thoughts whirring around in Jane’s head all of a sudden, or so it seemed. She certainly wasn’t against the relationship of the two people who she considered to pretty much be her parent figures in life. If anything, she cherished it- so much so that it had been the conversation topic on the tip of her tongue while she had been decorating the tree with the cabbies and Mr. Butler. Miss Phryne had seemed so much happier- brighter- in the last couple of weeks that she had been spending what seemed to be more romantic and non-case-based time with a certain Jack Robinson. She chose her final words with a smile.   
“I very much think the Inspector is someone who is good for you, Miss Phryne.” She spoke eloquently, and Phryne couldn’t help but look at her with a certain level of pride.   
“Oh!” her adoptive mother gasped somewhat, and Jane couldn’t help succumbing to the desire to giggle.   
“So you’re... okay with it?”   
Jane sighed. Phryne may pride herself in having made City South’s closure rate the highest in the area, but sometimes, for someone so intelligent, she was awfully stupid.   
‘Yes!” she turned on her heel, somewhat exasperated, and awfully looking forward to going back to decorating the tree.   
Phryne’s voice was almost timid from behind her.   
“So you don’t mind if I call the Inspector, and ask him to come over... see if this silly plant still holds any power over the mind of a clever man?”   
Jane sighed. Gods, Miss Phryne was a lovesick fool. 

♥︎

As Jane left the room, Phryne picked up the phone that sat on the entryway table with somewhat of a shaky hand, which, admittedly, was rather unusual. One of the many things that Phryne prided herself in, was that she was generally very well held together! She mentally chided herself. Men didn’t make her nervous, let alone Jack Robinson, and with that, she picked up the phone receiver, and spun the dial, putting in the number for City South Police Station- a number that by now, she knew by heart. 

After no more than three rings, the tone stopped, and a loud click could be heard as, predictably, the Inspector hit the phone receiver with one of his cufflinks after having run to grab the phone, because unsurprisingly, Collins hadn’t taken the time out of his day to pick it up himself. Phryne almost giggled, and stopped herself- it wouldn’t be to her benefit to give away quite yet that it was her on the other end of the phone, would it? After all- she was rather good at surprising Jack, whether at work, at the scene of a recent crime, on the phone... eventually, Phryne was bought out of her reverie by Jack’s deep tones rumbling over the phone lines.   
“City South Police Station.” He said, his voice ever the professional, ever the dour man that had Phryne had somehow fallen for in the first place.   
“This is Detective Inspector Jack Robinson speaking, how may I help you? If you’re calling to report a crime, please give me a moment to grab my incompetent desk sergeant- he seems to have thought that answering the phone that was ringing was quite below his workplace requirements.” Phryne couldn’t help but laugh, and she heard Jack sigh over the line.  
“Hello Inspector!” she said meekly,  
“Miss Fisher.” His voice was smooth, and held her name as if it were the most precious gem, and, though she would never admit it, Phryne blushed a pale rose.   
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”   
Phryne glanced over to the sprig of mistletoe hanging in the doorway to her left, and thought silently for a second. Perhaps it could be a surprise?   
“I was wondering if you would like to come over for dinner, Jack, dear?”   
To both of their utmost surprise, her voice was gentle and soft, almost timid, as if she had been expecting him to say no.   
“I’d be delighted, Miss Fisher.”   
Phryne suppressed a squeal of happiness, and pinched the heel of her hand between her nails. When did she become so easy to please, she thought to herself- when did simple things like a man agreeing to come to dinner start to make her so happy? She hugged one arm around herself, and leaned against the wall, cradling the phone receiver between her shoulder and ear.  
“Can I expect you at six?” she asked, still smiling like a fool.  
Jack’s voice alone promised the words he said, and she could feel his smile from the few miles that lay between City South and her home at Wardlow.   
“You can count on it, Miss Fisher.”   
With that, the line went dead, and as Mr. Butler and Jane watched around the doorway, Phryne held the phone to her chest, and sighed blissfully. Now all she had do was get her plan to work, and she would have ticked ‘kissing the Inspector under a sprig of mistletoe’ off of her mental list of things they should share before the decade was out.   
“Dot!?” she yelled, as she turned to the staircase,   
“I’ll need that new House of Fleuri dress for tonight!”

Jane turned to Mr. Butler as they watched Phryne flounce upstairs, calling for her companion.   
“That woman is going to drive us all crazy, Mr. Butler.” Said Jane, walking back into the kitchen and trying to not think of her adoptive mother to be crazily in love. She knew that there had been many... dates... in the last few weeks, and that Phryne was finally finding where she wanted to be in life, but it was still strange to see her so happy- especially in December.   
“She’s happy, is all Miss Jane.” Said Mr. Butler with a smile,  
“I like to think that Mrs Butler would be smiling upon this scene if she were here today.”   
Jane enveloped Mr. Butler in a quick hug.   
“True.” 

♥︎

At fife fifteen, Phryne finally rose from the Nuit D’amour scented soap bubbles in her bath. She had spent a blissful half an hour soaking in the water, washing her hair and then attempting to comb it while it was wet, and now, she thought, pulling a plush towel around herself, it was time to get ready for, quite possibly the most taxing task she would ever have to pull off. Trying to get the Inspector to stand in a doorway for seemingly no reason at all, and to stay there long enough for her to kiss him. She sighed. It wasn’t as if it were a difficult task, per se, but more that he was awfully stubborn when it came to listening to a word that she said. In the past few years, he had learnt that her words towards investigations were rather useful, and had found her connections in the world of high society to be rather useful, yet, when it came to romance, the man was rather naïve. She slipped on the black silk robe that lay across the foot of the bed, and walking over to her vanity unit, grabbed a hairbrush, gently towelling her hair dry, and then brushing it so her fringe lay in a flat and steady line upon her brow. Once she was finally happy with the outcome, Phryne placed the towel on the stool of her dresser, and shouted out for her companion, who, as per usual, came running.   
“Do you need your dress already, Miss?” she said, her eyebrows raising in a quizzical manner, and Phryne simply nodded, which got the cogs in Dot’s head whirring. It was not a frequent occurrence for Miss Phryne to ask for such a frivolous dress so early on in the day, and as Dorothy turned to grab the dress from where she had hung it in the wardrobe after steaming it while her miss was in the bath, she remembered the mistletoe that had been hung earlier, and gasped.   
Phryne simply laughed as her companion turned to her, her mouth in the shape of a perfect ‘o’.   
“Well!” she laughed, starting to smooth on her powder, followed by a flick of makeup, and her signature red lipstick,  
“One would assume you’ve put two and two together, and found yourself with four then, Dot!”   
Dot nodded, and took in the glimmering smile that was on her employer’s face as she pressed her lips together to finish her lipstick.   
“I’d say so, Miss.”  
Her own smile was small, and Phryne couldn’t help but giggle at the face she was making. Dorothy passed her the La Fleuri dress, and after shedding her robe, Phryne slipped it on over her head, relishing in the feeling of soft silk, and the finest of haute couture, before turning her back so that Dot could do up the hidden buttons at the back.  
An awkward sort of silence filled the room, and Phryne took that opportunity to speak.   
“Well, I supposed you were going to figure me out sooner or later, Dot, dear.” She said with a smile,  
“I know your feelings on relationships that perhaps won’t end in the textbook description of a marriage, yet, I do hope you know that I’m happy.”   
Dot pulled a face, and made as if to speak but Phryne shushed her.   
“I thought Jane and Mr. Butler might have told you already.” She said with yet another smile (for they seemed to keep coming),  
“But I’m attempting subtlety for once. I would quite like to experience a kiss under the mistletoe, and well- I’d rather like this decade to go out quite nicely. Besides- after all the running around that the Inspector did, trying to find me in England and all, yet still not coming after me, I thought he was owed some kind of surprise.” She paused.  
“Could you make up a menu with Mr. Butler? We’d quite like to eat at seven, if you don’t mind.”   
That was Dot’s cue to leave, and she knew it. There were a lot of unsaid words floating around the room (most of them being in relation to marriage... and relationships... and society’s opinions on non-conventional relationships), but that was not Miss William’s place to complain about. She knew that Miss Phryne was happier than she had ever been, and with that, she left the room with a swish of her rose-pink apron, to attempt to combat a three-course dinner in less than two hours. The last thing she saw before she left Miss Fisher’s room, however, was that the lady of the house was smiling sappily in the mirror, and seemed to be pulling a box of letters out of the drawer. Dot sighed. It was going to be one of those nights... again. 

♥︎

Phryne didn’t often pull the letter box out of her dresser drawer, but when she did, it was because she wanted to revisit quotes, or perhaps, special moments that she could only wish that she could read for the first time again. She glanced at her watch, and smiled. She had ten minutes before she could expect her visitor, which was time aplenty.

Grabbing her collection of Shakespeare’s works that she had found necessary to purchase during her time of writing letters, Phryne pulled her favourite letter (one in a light blue envelope), out of the box, and perched daintily on the edge of her bed, before opening it, and reading words that she had seen far too many times before. 

\----December 26th, 1929.  
Dearest Phryne.  
I know full well that festive season is not one that treats you kindly, and that is why I leave this month’s letter until now- for I felt you would rather some time to be alone, and to attempt to consolidate your parents, rather than read my ramblings on.   
The station is far too quiet without you- I know that I may have mentioned this in passing during our past correspondence, yet, I find myself missing you more and more each day. Perhaps it is the way you would appear frequently with lunch- though, if you left instructions with Miss Williams to keep me fed, I must say thank you- you’ll be happy to know that I’m not wasting away in your absence. Maybe it was the way you appeared at almost all of my cases- without fail: or then again, it was more likely the fact that you threw yourself onto my desk, and into my personal space with reckless abandon. I do miss that, you know. Your laugh, your expensive perfume, the frequent dinner conversations, oh, and did I mention that I miss the nightcaps?   
I’m sure you’ll be interested to know that my current nightcap partner does not spark quite as interesting conversation, nor does she hold a candle to you (though she is very good at throwing herself into my personal space and onto my lap). As cats go, Cleopatra isn’t a bad one- and as Dr. Mac’s advice goes, this was a rather good piece to combat my ‘pining’ as she so rudely called it. I think both Cleopatra and I would be rather happy to have her namesake home safely again. I can assure you that you might end up vying for space on my lap, but that is a matter that shall have to be resolved at a later date- perhaps when you finally come home?   
Please do come back soon, Miss Fisher. I cannot come after you, but I the heavens know how much I miss you.   
Eternally yours,   
Jack.   
P.S. Please tell your aunt to stop meddling in my affairs. I don’t quite think she yet understands how little I would care to step out with Miss Renshaw, or whoever it is that she keeps trying to set me up with. ----

Phryne held the letter for a moment, and pulled the picture of Cleopatra out of the envelope. She was a darling cat- small, black, polite, and awfully cuddly. If anyone were to ask, it would be clear that Phryne held a soft spot for this silly little animal- after all, she had kept the Inspector company all by herself, and held fort in his heart for the long four months that they were apart. Speaking of the Inspector- there was the easily recognisable policeman’s knock at the door, and Phryne jumped off of her bed, cramming the letter back in her dresser, and straightening her dress and wrap. Showtime. 

♥︎

“Inspector!” Mr. Butler preened, taking the man’s overcoat, and letting him inside,   
“So wonderful to see you again.”   
Jack smiled, and nodded at the lovely man who seemed to be stuck with opening the door every time that he arrived. As much as he adored Mr. Butler, he did anxiously await the day when Phryne was the one who opened the door herself. As much as Miss Fisher had a mental list of things she wanted to do before the decade was out, the Inspector had a similar one for her- and one of the few things left on that list was that one day, when Miss Fisher opened her own door, he would sweep her off her feet with a kiss on her lips. He sighed, and Mr. Butler closed the door behind him- another day, perhaps?   
Phryne listened as Mr. B let Jack in, and once the two men had undertaken the necessary formalities between civil servant and butler, made her way out of her room, and practically skipped down the stairs.   
“Jack!”   
When he turned to her from taking a small, paper wrapped package out of his coat pocket, he was beaming.   
“My wonderful Miss Fisher.”   
Phryne blushed slightly, and the butterflies in her stomach, as always, went a little bit crazy. Damn this man! Two years ago, any type of word even suggesting possession would have driven her off of a cliff, but now? Now it felt like being wrapped in a warm blanket, and sent to heaven. She finished her walk down the stairs, and with as much dignity as one can muster when doing so, threw her arms around Jack’s neck, who immediately bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of her painted lips.   
“You look quite divine, Miss Fisher.” He said gently, when she finally removed her arms from around his neck and he could drink in what creation she was wearing this time around. The silk hung from her curves like a flowing river, and the pale periwinkle colour bought out the blue in her eyes. She looked delicate, and beautiful and... beautiful. In short, Jack was speechless. 

Phryne smoothed his lapels with her thumbs, and after having sufficiently ‘fixed’ his appearance, stepped back for a second, and looked at the parcel in his hand. It was small- tiny in fact, and Phryne smiled to herself. She knew what it wasn’t, but she was still curious regardless. The gifts had started as a bit of a joke, and now they were somewhat of a relationship tradition. The story was, that after having refused two years’ worth of birthday gifts, every time Jack came to dinner at Wardlow, he bought a small gift: something tiny, usually sparkly, and every time, they rendered Phryne without words. It was always the little things, she thought, and as Jack stepped back from her space, she reached for the gift, but Jack held it out of her reach.  
“Nope.” He said softly,   
“Not until you ask nicely.”   
Phryne rolled her eyes back so far that she was worried that they would get stuck, and Jack couldn’t help but laugh- his rare, deep laugh – as she gave up on any sense of propriety, and snatched the parcel from his hands, unwrapping the paper and grinning as the little box inside was revealed.   
“Jack!” she laughed, and pressed a kiss to his cheek, before holding the earrings in her hand to let the light sparkle off of the jade stones. They were the teardrop shape that she adored, and with a smirk on her lips, unclipped her other earrings, immediately put the new ones in. Jack watched her with a strange feeling of contentment settling in his stomach- a feeling that a while back, he had realised was love.   
She smiled at him, and tilted her head to show him the stones, and he gave one of those tiny, non-committal nods that she was so fond of.  
“They suit you beautifully, Miss Fisher.” He said with his usual downturned smile,  
“Just like I knew they would.” 

Just then, the tinny noise of a bell could be heard, and Phryne dragged Jack to the dining room- dinner was clearly up, and knowing her Inspector, he would be famished, as per usual. Not one to miss an opportunity, however, Phryne stopped in the doorway, and looked up at Jack.   
“You seem taller today Jack.” She said with a smile, and to her surprise, rather than leaning down to kiss her on the nose and tease her about how short she was, Jack simply laughed deeply, and rolled his eyes.   
“You don’t seem to have heels on, Miss Fisher, there lies our problem.” He smirked, and continued walking through to the dining room, Phryne trailing behind him slightly, and looking back at the plant pinned to the doorway of which they had just stopped in. Why hadn’t he kissed her on the nose? He always did! Her mind raced at one hundred miles an hour, and until she heard the clink of cutlery, she was almost mad, but then again. The man did always think of his stomach, and she hadn’t sent any food to the station today. She nodded, and went to sit across from the Inspector, in the chair that he had already pulled out for her. Of course- the poor man was hungry. 

♥︎

“You’ve been awfully quiet, Phryne.”   
The inspector’s voice was soft above the clink of their cutlery as the two lovers finished their meal- and Jack’s statement rang true. Phryne had barely spoken for the entirety of the three courses they had eaten, and when she had, it had been of mundane things like the amount of spinach Mr. Butler had used being ‘absolutely delightful’, or the fact that the gratin was ‘perfectly crisp’. It had confused Jack a little, if he was honest, for he was so not used to Phryne being anything more than utterly boisterous, and talking for the entire length of every dinner that they had together, whether the topic be politics, the cut of the new dress she had ordered from La Lune Boutique, or occasionally, a short confession of her love for Jack.   
The woman in question ‘hmmed’ absent mindedly, and spooned up the last mouthful of the divine chocolate mousse that Mr. Butler had prepared. Jack was right, she thought to herself- she had been awfully quiet, but for good reason! Her mind hadn’t stopped all dinner, and the more she thought about it, the more she worried. How ever would she get the inspector to kiss her under the mistletoe!? Phryne coughed, and placed her spoon back in the glass dish, just as her ever-present butler appeared to sweep away the glasses, and allow them to go through to the parlour. She stood quickly, and once Jack too had stood, wrapped her arm around his for the short walk across the hall and into their (well- she considered it to be their!) parlour.   
“I’ve been thinking, is all, Jack.” She said softly, her face getting that hazy look that Jack knew all too well. He stooped down to place a kiss on her brow, and she smiled softly.  
“This year it’ll be yet another Christmas without Janey.”   
Jack nodded- here was the conversation that they had every single year: Phryne would get a little bit teary, speak a little less, and then eventually, ask if he could be around for whichever holiday was the one that she felt uncomfortable with.   
“I just- don’t know how I should feel, Jack.” Her voice was quiet, and Jack could pick up on the underlying worry that coated her voice. Phryne quavered under his gaze. This hadn’t been her original plan- she had just wanted something to say to cover up the fact she wanted to find a way to kiss him under the mistletoe, and now, here she was, almost crying, and about to ask him to-  
“Do you want me to stay on Christmas eve, Miss Fisher?” Jack’s voice was oh so gentle, and Phryne couldn’t help but almost preen as he gazed at her, his eyes awash with devotion. As they walked through the hallway and into their parlour, Phryne glanced up at the plant that seemed to be causing all her troubles, and then met Jack’s eyes once again.   
“You know”, she said gently, breaking away from his arm to go to the decanter of whiskey that she only shared with Jack,  
“I think that would be quite lovely.”   
With that, she seemed to close up all emotions on the matter, and Jack reached out to her before she could pour their drinks, and placed one hand gently on her waist.   
“Waltz with me, Miss Fisher?” 

Phryne blushed. He always did this, whenever he thought she was beyond sad- he would do something to remind her of a joyous moment in their shared past, and she would have no choice other than to light up like a Christmas tree.   
She reached out to where the wireless sat, his hand still on her waist, and glancing at the clock on her mantle, tuned into Radio 3JH- it was 9pm, and as always, their dance-hall-hour was in full swing. Each night, they would play their top picks from halls around Melbourne, and tonight, Phryne seemed to be in luck. The Missouri Waltz was playing- one of those gorgeous orchestral pieces that Phryne could have listened to over, and over, and over again.   
Jack seemed to take note of this, and without a word, slightly tightened his hold on Phryne’s waist and arm as she stepped in closer to him and they started to dance, silently swaying close to one another- far closer than propirety would allow if they were out in an actual dance hall, and this was one of the reasons that Jack was so grateful for the privacy of which Phryne’s parlour was home to.  
“You never did tell me if the waltz made you lose all sense, Miss Fisher.”   
They had been dancing for the better half of three minutes, and already, Phryne had her head on his shoulder and was gazing up at him lovingly as they waltzed throughout the room, trying their level best to avoid any possible collisions with the multiple pieces of furniture that were posing a threat to their ankles.   
“Oh Jack.” Her voice, as theme seemed for the evening, thought Jack, was soft, and she pulled their dance a little further to the left, almost into the hall, before nuzzling her head into his neck, her lips kissing a gentle peck on the side of his jaw.   
“You really think I still have any sense left? You delightfully silly man.”   
As the last strains of Paul Whiteman and his Orchestra died out, Phryne manouvered their dance to the doorway of the dining room, and looked up at Jack as if he had hung the moon, and all the stars in the sky.   
“If you think I have any sense left, Jack, you couldn’t be more wrong.”   
Jack tilted her head down, as if to kiss her, and let his lips whisper words that, although had been uttered before, never truly had the chance to be spoken.  
“How I love you, Miss Fisher.”   
Phryne blushed, and the inside of her heart erupted into butterflies- in no more than a couple of seconds, her kiss under the mistletoe would be complete! She leant a little closer into Jack, and placing her hands on his shoulders, pulled him a little closer.   
“Was that your idea of a romantic overture, Inspector?” she said quietly,   
“You’ve certainly improved...” she tipped her chin up, to give the man access to her lips, and just as they were about to kiss...

CRASH! 

“Jane! Miss Phryne said not to disturb her!” Dot came running down the stairs after Jane, and Phryne and Jack jumped away from one another, as if they had been caught stealing from Dot’s fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies. Jane was chasing after a book that seemed to have fallen from a great height (more commonly known as the top of the stairs), and Phryne huffed. Just as everything was about to work out!

Jane pulled a sheepish face, and picking up her book, trundled back up to the landing, Dot glaring at her all the while. Once the girl had disappeared back into her room, Dot turned to the two, ready to apologise.   
“She heard the Inspector was over, Miss, and wanted to show him that new Shakespeare book you bought. The one with the pretty pictures, you know?”   
Phryne nodded, and faced her companion with a forced smile.   
“So long as she’s off to bed now, Dot.” She said,  
“I’m sure I can show the Inspector the book myself.”   
With that, Dot considered herself dismissed, and made her way back upstairs, tugging her nightgown a little tighter around her. She would have to confess to Father Grogan, she thought, that her husband’s employer had seen her in her pyjamas! She shook a little bit as she slipped back under the covers of her bed- how embarrassing! 

Back downstairs, Phryne had her hands back on the Inspector’s chest already, and he was looking at her with nothing but love in his eyes. The both of them were chuckling slightly.   
“Every single time, Inspector.” Phryne laughed.   
“One would almost believe our relationship as a whole is cursed!”   
Jack laughed, and the sound was one so infrequently heard that Phryne couldn’t help but tighten her hold on him, as if he would disappear at any second.   
“One could believe that, Miss Fisher.” He said with a grin,   
“Yet I hear you have a new collection of Shakespeare?” she nodded.   
“Then lay on, MacDuff!” he said, and she grabbed his hand to take him into the library,  
“Of course, my dear Inspector.”

♥︎

A half hour later, Phryne and Jack were half cuddled up on the couch, under one of the fine woollen blankets that lay there just in case anyone ever did end up tired at Wardlow (on the very rare occasion!). Phryne had her head on Jack’s chest, and as usual, he was reading Shakespeare passages out to her in his delightfully deep tones.   
“Have letters from me to some friends that will sweep your way for you. Pray you, look not sad, nor make replies of loathness: take the hint which my despair proclaims; let that be left which leaves itself: to the sea-side straight away: I will possess you of that ship and treasure.”   
Phryne yawned, and tucked herself closer into the Inspector’s chest as he read from the book.  
“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”   
Jack frowned, and after placing the ribbon insert in the book to hold his place, returned the book onto the table to their left.   
“Let what go?” he asked with a grin, and Phryne felt her insides melt, yet again.   
“Antony and Cleopatra.” She said gently, taking one hand up to caress the side of his face, looking gentle and tender in the fading light of the candles that had been lit earlier in the day, and were now their only source of light in the room.   
“Just because they had a thwarted love, and she felt she was too good for him, doesn’t mean our own-” she paused, trying to pick the right words “-love story is the same, Inspector. Just because you’ve been quoting the play at me left, right and centre, doesn’t make it what we are!”   
She laughed, realising quite how pretty she sounded, and Jack mumbled something under his breath, before drawing her close, and silencing her with a kiss that left her gasping for breath.   
When they eventually pulled away, Phryne’s lipstick was smeared, and Jack was smirking at her.  
“She kissed the last of many double kisses.” He repeated with a downturned smile, and Phryne couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.  
“Double kisses, Inspector? I feel cheated, for that was only the one!”   
Jack laughed, and gently pushed her off of his lap, untangling them both from the blankets before taking her hand, and guiding her to the doorway in which she had hung her sprig of hemi-parasitic greenery.   
“You’ve been trying to prompt the second kiss all evening, Miss Fisher.” He rumbled, and Phryne couldn’t help but smile.   
“But lest we both forget; your kisses cannot be prompted by greenery.”   
She nodded,  
“So I suppose I shan’t be kissing you under the mistletoe then, Jack Robinson?” her voice was so small that she seemed as if she had shrunk, and Jack could then tell quite how much she had wanted to surprise him with a subtle kiss under the mistletoe.   
“You will be, Miss Fisher.” He said tenderly, reaching for her and pulling her body close against his own, almost reminiscent of the night he had made his first romantic overture on the roof of the observatory.   
“I never said that my kisses couldn’t be prompted.”   
With that, he tucked one arm around her waist, and pulled her into a bone-tingling kiss. Phryne sighed onto his lips, and then smiled as they pulled apart, noses still brushing.   
“It seems, Inspector.” She said, her bright lips only a hairs-breadth away from his own-  
“That I truly do make hungry where most I satisfy.”

**Author's Note:**

> I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT I FINALLY FINISHED THIS I AM SO PROUD OF MYSELF!!   
> The Anthony and Cleopatra quote that Jack reads seemed to fit so well- he talks of taking away sadness, and it truly seemed like it just... worked. Hold me while I cry.   
> The last week or so has been a slipping mental state for me, and I’m so glad that I can escape reality and write about our two foolish detectives- especially trope-y stuff like this- Christmas, established relationships.... I’m in love.   
> Kudos are adored, comments mean the world- and I’ll see you soon for another Christmas gift to you all!   
> Love, T x


End file.
